Tales of the Fallen: Bumblebee
by WordComposer
Summary: Pre-ROTF, main characters include Bumblebee, Barricade, and Sam Witwicky. Sam just wanted time away from his robotic guardian to think things over. Little did he know, a particular police interceptor would steal away that chance...
1. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part One

**Author's Note: The following story/caption is based off the events that took/have taken place in the contents of the comic book series "Tales of the Fallen", Issue #1. This is merely a novelization of what occurred; all credits for the original writing belong to Chris Mowry. Pencils and coloring for the rest of the comic were created by Carlos Magno and Josh Perez. Also, this written Issue is going to be separated into several parts seeing as there's more detail to include than what the comic provides. Enjoy!**

… _Nearly two years after saving the planet, Sam Witwicky has grown up. It's too bad his friend Bumblebee hasn't. With their friendship strained, Sam sets out for an evening devoid of alien interference. Little does he know that he's being watched. Without his robotic protector, can he beat the Decepticons?..._

…

A yellow and black automobile gleamed like droplets of dew on a feathery rose petal in the bright, morning sunshine, whose rays fell in layers upon the manicured roads and snow white houses of the suburbia the Camaro had entered. Brilliant colors splashed together beautifully as trees, rosebushes, tens of varieties of flowers, and garden gnomes littered the property of each homeowner to liven the otherwise colorless area.

**While the others are fighting across this planet, I get sent back here.**

**Fine by me…**

…**I've missed my friend.**

The growl that had forewarned the dwellings surrounding him of his presence transformed into a power-hungry roar, only capable by the finest V8 available in the automotive industry. This symbolic rev that originated from the pure bred muscle car shattered the previously peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the quiet neighborhood, the classic vehicle pulling into a wide driveway that seemed to welcome him as soon as his pitch black tires connected with the gravel. A small, grey and black cat retreated for the safety of overgrowing brush before scrambling up the trunk of a nearby oak, as it was startled out of a nap it had been taking on the same stone driveway, and the family's pet Chihuahua, Mojo, ran like high hell for the front yard of the Witwicky residence, in a desperate attempt to escape the unruly noise. Sam Witwicky glanced away from watering his mother's flowers to get his first glimpse of the gleaming yellow paint job that he had sorely missed.

"Bumblebee!" he cried with eager excitement, hastily dropping the hose he had been gardening with in order to rush to his car. The Autobot screeched to a well-lubricated and -timed stop, moments before his charge planted himself onto the driver's side of the vehicle, fondly pressing his palms against the reassuring metal of his ally.

"It's good to have you back, pal." Sam greeted warmly, patting the roof of the sports car and rubbing the windshield affectionately.

"Glad to… b-be ba—_kzzt _– back." Bumblebee finally said after several mechanical whirs of protest from his vocal processor. It annoyed the cheerful mech that he couldn't properly emote his feelings of joy, especially when he was equally as excited to be in contact with his best friend once more.

"I heard what happened to your voice. I'm sorry." Sam apologized empathetically, referring to the warrior's encounter with the deceased Decepticon leader's lap-dog, Starscream. He continued: "Ratchet can't fix it?"

Before the Autobot could force out a response of sorts, explaining the complications of his crushed vocalizer, a shrill, female voice pierced the air from nearby. The mech recognized the ensuing sounds as those belonging to Mrs. Judith Witwicky's, or better known as Sam's obnoxiously loud mother.

"Sam! Why is Mojo in the front yard?"Mrs. Witwicky demanded, no doubt anxious to keep any and all living creatures off her meticulous husband's perfect lawn.

"Aww, crap," the Witwicky child breathed, also in full awareness of the danger of their yippy mutt deciding to take a leak on his dad's beloved grass. "I'll be right back," he reassured his companion, obviously hesitant to leave after having just been reunited for a mere couple of seconds. Suddenly, as if having just thought up an ingenious way to make sure that Bumblebee couldn't just rush off to continue his duties with the government elsewhere, Sam added, "Then, I'll need help getting that cat out of the tree."

Optical sensors focused on one particular trunk behind a white picket fence separating the two neighbors' yards as soon as the boy had run off to find his troublesome canine. In its branches held the distorted heat signature of a pathetically tiny and furry mammal, who the Autobot figured to be the target that Sam had charged him with capturing.

_Primary objective: acquired, confirmed. _

_Retrieval of feline entity: initiated._

"Gotcha, you little – what the…?" Sam muttered, just as he had wrapped his hands under the belly of Mojo so his fretful pet couldn't flee once more out of his reach. Several hisses and meows floated into his eardrums, and the rustling of a large tree informed the boy that something definitely weird was going on (as if there was anything _normal _about the privileges that came with having a sixteen-foot alien robot as a best friend). He forcefully pushed his Chihuahua in the general direction of his house, hoping that the stupid thing would get a clue and retreat inside to cower, then turned and lightly jogged back to where he had left Bumblebee so he could see for himself what the entire ruckus was about.

Sam immediately wished he had given his friend further instructions on how to properly remove a resistant cat from a tree.

"NO NO NO NO NO! _Stop it_!" Witwicky shrieked once he was positive that his eyes weren't deceiving him and that Bumblebee actually was crouching down in his neighbor's yard, fully assembled in all his robo-glory, tossing a barely rooted tree one way and another as if it were a mere rag doll.

"_Gettin' the job done, baby._" Bumblebee sang out proudly once the black and grey cat screeched with horror and finally released its claws from the branch it had been clutching, barreling down towards the ground with no mercy in sight for its landing.

Sam thanked God that cats actually _did _seem to land on their paws, seeing as this particular one would have been subject to immediate death should it have landed on any other part of its body. It managed to stay alive; however, it was dizzy and confused and probably a tad pissed, which was manifest as the poor animal staggered around helplessly for several moments as it tried to get bearings on where it was and what was going on.

"I think you're doing more _harm _than good, buddy." Sam deadpanned as he and the hovering alien watched the furry creature finally get a hold on its self. It then proceeded to frightfully bound for dear life as far away from the house as it could muster the strength to get; but not before it turned to the troublesome pair, hair on end, and let out a threatening hiss.

Sam heard a _chk chk chak chk _sound behind him and turned just in time to see his yellow friend stooping down into his sweet car form. No matter how many times Sam managed to bring himself to watching the amazing spectacle, he could never quite get used to seeing something go from robotic killing machine and back to gorgeous Chevrolet automobile so gracefully.

Keeping in mind that, no matter how friendly he was, Bumblebee was still capable of being a little _over dramatic_, Sam decided to switch the topic to something more basic instead of pursuing the irresponsible behavior the robot had succumbed to.

"So what are you _doing _here?" The Witwicky boy asked politely, his head continuously dipping downwards as Bumblebee's shape got smaller and smaller.

"_Watching over you._"

"Really? Am I in trouble?"

"_Just sayin' no._"

The fact that no true danger was present and yet his guardian was acting so suspicious riled Sam to finally say: "Well, you have to be careful and not show yourself like that. I don't need those reporters _snooping _around again."

Now in his assumed Camaro alternative-mode, Bumblebee could only let out a few electrical whines of power that eerily reminded Sam of the apologetic noises a child, who had just been caught stealing a cookie out of the eternally forbidden cookie jar, would make.

Trying to lighten the mood, Sam added jokingly: "And just when I start to live a normal life again – bam – witness protection or something."

No noise indicated that the joke had been accepted, or for that matter, understood.

"Glad you're here, though." Witwicky said with a small smile. Then, he remembered the plans he had for tonight and thought of an idea to try and reel Bumblebee back into the human society he had been deprived of for so long… "Miles, Mikaela, and I are going to the movies. Wanna go?"

Bumblebee rippled with confusion at the unforeseen invitation he had been handed. Of course, he did like the boy; he was an interesting specimen, and taught him very interesting things about the cultures and nature of the creatures inhabiting the planet Earth. But to be _included _in the activities of his "normal" friends (excepting Mikaela, of course) was an open gesture of cemented friendship that, besides confusing the Autobot, also genuinely touched his spark.

That is, until a sly smirk developed on Sam's visage and he added, "I mean, can _you _drive?"

Bumblebee then fully understood the purpose behind the "invitation" he had been presented.


	2. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part Two

**Author's Note: Thank you to those of you who have shown support to this novelization so far by reviewing, favoring, or 'alerting' it! I highly appreciate the attention :) I wanted to also thank these people for the patience that they're going to have to practice, as the first several parts that are going to be posted will be short. The reason for this is because in the comic, it's broken up into a few parts that I feel would act as placements for chapters should it have been a written feature. But have no fear; I'll reward the loyal readers with an exciting depiction of the battle at the end, and it _will _be longer!**

...

**THAT NIGHT.**

"Dude, tell me about _Lindsey _again." Miles suggested to his aggravated buddy for what had to be the zillionth time during their drive to the local movie theatre (but was approximately the fourth request, according to the Autobot).

Fed up with the constant demands of his horny partner in crime, Sam concluded, "She's hot, okay, Miles? Just keep your hands to yourself, though. I _promised _Mikaela that you wouldn't perv out on her _friend_. We're seeing a movie and _that's _it. I mean it!"

Of course, Sam refrained from mentioning that Lindsey was a pal of Mikaela's through her father's _real _partner in crime, and that the attractive redhead had the sort of "skill" that Mikaela had developed over years of "not being able to afford a babysitter". Lord knew how big Miles's mouth was, and if revealed to Sam's friend, the girls secret would last about two seconds before the OCD nerd would start questioning her about her ability to "handle a crankshaft" and "straddle a stick shift".

"Lame, Sam. _Real _lame." Miles retorted, butt-hurt now that his flirting for the night had been respectively cancelled on account of his perverted methods.

Bumblebee kept to himself for the better part of the conversation, only occasionally (and inconspicuously) taking control of his steering wheel so he could take a different, and usually quicker, route than what the teenager had had in mind.

But overall, the drive had been a normal one; or at least as close to the term as humanely possible when they were driving inside the innards of a ferocious Autobot soldier. No accidents or problems surfaced, and before Sam could remember the time at which they had left Miles' house, the trio was already in the parking lot of the shopping mall that housed the movie theatre and the two beautiful women the unworthy gentlemen were to be meeting.

"Oh, great." The Witwicky boy suddenly breathed, venting out his frustration in a deep breath that told Miles that something was about to go down. Sam's friend looked around frightfully, unaware of what they were supposed to be upset about.

"What is it?" The blonde companion asked fearfully.

"It's Trent's car. Remember Mikaela's ex?"

Both of the boys clearly remembered Mikaela's ex.

"Just what I need," Sam snapped heatedly, trying not to glance as they passed (a little too slowly for his liking) past the brutish football player's rugged Hummer. "I hope we don't run into him later."

…

These words, uttered from his perturbed charge's mouth, rattled through Bumblebee's central processor for long minutes as he thought over the wishful thinking of his friend. He reflected on why he had been brought along on this cinematic adventure in the first place; because of his alt-mode. As much as he didn't want to be offended by this materialistic relationship Samuel had developed with the Camaro he transformed into, he was.

Because now he was alone in a partially empty parking lot, waiting in the dark for the boy to finally arrive and take him away from this dreadful place that was so devoid of life. Bumblebee wasn't so prideful that he couldn't admit he didn't like the dark. It wasn't the lack of light that frightened him, though; it was the possibility that anyone, or any_thing_, could be waiting…watching…

Present thoughts strayed to distant memories, where unimaginable horrors awaited him and his sanity in the far edges of his 'mind'. But the normally cheerful Autobot didn't retreat into himself to dwell on past rivalries, and vicious fights that resulted in the death of an opposing sentient being; instead, he mentally decided that he needed some way to prove to Sam that he was worthy enough to be his _companion_; not just his car. The guardian mulled over several strategies for proving his dependability, until the words that had stuck with the yellow mech returned with an idea.

"I hope we don't run into him later."

Sam had been referring to the old bully from his high school. Bumblebee recalled once meeting Trent DeMarco, at the lake where the Autobot had eventually set the boy up with the female he found such interest in. Trent had been a stereotypical jock, whom abused others far less powerful and intimidating than him, and seemed to be the piggish sort that wouldn't hesitate to kick an individual who was already down. Bumblebee couldn't help but find many a comparison between this 'Trent' character and a black mech he had fought once before there on Earth…

Bumblebee erased this thought process as he concluded that the mentioned Decepticon was no longer a threat and irrelevant to the situation at hand. He did, however, find relevance in another specific car that would play a key role in his proof of his worth to the boy. He _was_, after all, Witwicky's guardian: and anyone, or any_thing_, that presented a plausible threat was to be disposed of in a neatly and orderly fashion.

**HOURS LATER.**

"Thanks for _behaving _in front of Miles, 'bee." Sam said sincerely, only wishing that he could show gratitude to his psychotic human friend for the same reason as well. The trip to the movies with Miles could have gone…better…but Sam was still relieved that Bumblebee had kept all weirdness to himself and he hadn't had to explain anything pertaining to an alien robotic protector that night.

"_Made the sucka pay!_" The hearty response of an infuriated rapper snapped through the radio as they approached a section of the mall's parking lot that had previously engendered anxiety within Witwicky.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked airily, unaware of the serious complications of what his yellow friend had just suggested.

Bumblebee could only chuckle silently to himself as what used to be a brilliant blue Hummer came into both of their views. The Autobot had to admit that the vehicle had put up one hell of a fight; it had taken more than a mere flick of a digit to topple Trent's resistant vehicle and make it submit to being flipped over. However, the battle had nonetheless been one-sided once Bumblebee found it suitable to transform in order to finish his petty revenge on Sam's aggressor. The Hummer had, despite protests, been taken care of as seen fit, and had subjected quietly to being dismembered bolt by bolt until it was in a state of condition where it could not be driven, and most importantly, would remain forever unfixable.

Several police interceptors swarmed the area, but this seemed to bother the boy far more than his alien comrade. Bumblebee expected yelps of joy from his friend when he first feasted his eyes upon his enemy's misfortune. After all, Trent had put him through some serious traumatic events, according to records retold through his charge, and so the Autobot deducted that Sam would find the situation rather enjoyable.

Unfortunately, Bumblebee's hypothesis was incorrect, as Sam gaped with horror and fully understood the lyrics that had reverberated through the Camaro's interior a few seconds earlier. "What did you do, Bumblebee?"

The policemen investigating the crime would have liked to know the answer to this hushed question, as well. One of the men whom the Camaro and Witwicky passed was inspecting the excessive damage with a bright flashlight and a fixed gaze; the poor cop's look alit with confusion that was far brighter than anything a small voltage bulb could produce. The other officer held a pad in his hands, looking poised to question Trent as to who might be responsible and what might have occurred to cause this; but his eyes were as round as his partner's, and his jaw slightly slacked so he looked far more amazed/terrified.

As Bumblebee and Sam passed the scene of the crime innocently, Trent DeMarco's shouted words and the murmurings of his friends floated through the glass that made up the yellow automobile's windows: "Look at my truck, bro!"

Bumblebee thought that Mr. DeMarco was being slightly generous in that he referred to the pile of scrap metal that had previously been his vehicle as anything remotely resembling a _truck_.


	3. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part Three

**Author's Note: I apologize sincerely and sympathetically for having made all of my wonderfully faithful readers endure such a long wait. It's tragic, really. My computer has apparently said "adios" in that it has developed a severe, death-inspiring virus and refuses to work any longer. So that's my excuse for this ridiculously short and awaited chapter. Sorry, mates!**

...

**As what they call "_days_" on Earth seem to go by, Sam and I make the most of it.**

The mall Bumblebee had left buzzing with mystery the night before had returned to its state of normalcy now that the daylight hours were brightening the spherical planet. Human and machine alike drove into the familiar parking lot of the popular hang-out spot of the city, manifestly undeterred despite the news they had no doubt received the previous evening concerning the strange, yet-to-be-explained toppling of a Hummer. However, the organic creatures maintained their hearty "It could never happen to me" attitudes, this being displayed through the hundreds of people hustling throughout the area. And if their mindset and lack of sympathy was not awe-inspiring enough, their sense of style surely was. Many wore different attire, different face decorations, different hairstyles…it amazed the curious Autobot how so many seemingly identical individuals could be so vast in variety.

But while the Camaro came with the boy, not just as his car, but as a spectator, Sam seemed to be more concentrated (more like _dumbstruck_) on all of the attractive women that flaunted themselves around like haughty peacocks. The boy's naivety only grew worse when a group of these young ladies passed in packs; this enabled Sam to ask Bumblebee to drive slower, roll the window down so he could prop his elbow up on the seal like he didn't have a care in the world, and lean back dramatically in his seat to try and look impressive. Most of the time the females laughed. When it came to this result, it usually ended in an infuriated series of honking by the overly sensitive and overprotective guardian, followed by the scrambling of an embarrassed teenage boy to explain to the bitter women that his car was having mechanical issues.

Mechanical issues my sine function, the Autobot would repeat mentally, those ungrateful wenches heard me loud and clear.

**I remain on the lookout for any _hostile _entities, while Sam simply remains on the lookout.**

Bumblebee proverbially shook his head as Sam whistled in delight at several slim females that walked side by side on their way into an opening to the shopping portion of the building. Witwicky would never learn, and as a sort of punishment for his irrational behavior, the yellow mech didn't unleash any raging honking sessions as the women giggled and sneered. The Camaro continued to refrain even as he felt Sam cringe and hurriedly roll the window shut. He would never understand the attraction these organic males found in their opposite gender; then again, Cybertronian's were far different in terms of "mates". In fact, they didn't reproduce; that was what the Allspark had done for their kind. Instead, to have a mate was to rely on another to sustain pleasure… and at times, pain. Through the sacred ritual of Spark bonding, one Transformer solidified a lifetime of joy and woes with another of their kind in the rare occurrence of two Sparks meshing to form one. The yellow Autobot had even heard of a case where two mechs had already been joined through the Allspark, as it were. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had been destined for one another from the very beginning; even a Cybertronian Spark bonding seemed naught but a mere "fling" when compared to such unity.

But even lowlier than the Transformer's sacred ritual was the everyday occurrence of two humans joining together in (usually unprotected) sexual intercourse. Bumblebee had once delved deeply into the subject of local mating methods and had done his fair share of research on the subject, but had been cut off in his funding for the personal inquisition when the Witwicky family had decided that their alien friend watching pornography through their home Internet router was _too _weird.

But, no matter their faults and disturbing habits, the Autobot dearly loved the humans. They produced such emotion and passion that he never understood what there was to _hate _about them; they were an experiment to him, and he was the nosy professor continuously using them to learn more and more information. So the Camaro went along with his friend's feeble attempts at wooing any pretty woman they happened to stumble upon, if just to try and share a bonding moment or two with his charge. And if the female were especially lucky, and gave him many an impressed glance, he would even join in on the fun with some arousing lyrics from "Birthday Sex" or a quick burst of "She's A Lady".

**Before long, our friendship is tested.**

Bumblebee didn't understand exactly why anyone (specifically the Decepticons) could detest a human; however, he more than complied with the loathing of the machine's that inhabited this planet. He was a patient, all-around good tempered mech, but a challenge was not something he took on lightly, and he had never become accustomed to the fact that the humans _drove _the vehicles, not the other way around.

So later that night, after having participated in constant mischief with his human ally for the better part of the day, Bumblebee was utterly shocked that a car, one he had no fault with, roared up next to the pair at a stoplight and revved heatedly.

The scout was quick to make sure that a Decepticon had not presented himself to the pair. However, the machine was sparkless. Confused, Bumblebee silently sought answers from Sam and hoped he would clarify on the meaning of this rude intrusion. But instead, Witwicky sought to further aggravate this unknown opponent by pushing down on the Camaro's gas pedal, right after locking him into neutral, and returning this rev with an equally matched one of his own (if not more intimidating, the prideful mech thought).

Bumblebee easily could have stopped this tournament from proceeding, but now his curiosity was set into motion. Why would this rival vehicle (a Dodge Challenger, ironically enough) want anything to do with him and the boy? More importantly, why was the individual who was driving the black creep knowingly letting such irresponsible behavior be presented to a complete stranger?

Unless… this opposing vehicle and its charge desired a _duel_.

As these sorts of competitions were never refused and certainly taken with the utmost seriousness, Bumblebee suddenly assumed a very business-like disposition and did not take part in Sam's playful gestures at the opponent.

Instead, a returning rev of the engine, one that Witwicky had not produced himself, caused the boy to glance at the radio of his Camaro questioningly. Bumblebee did not acknowledge this look from his charge as he concentrated solely on the challenge ahead of him. The retro-reborn vehicles may have been reduced to a stalemate concerning horsepower…but the Autobot had accessed blueprints of the city and carefully studied the road they had inhabited as their battlefield. The contest would be one-sided if the exhilarated Camaro could marry his know-how of the area and his relentless energy, and use both successfully against his foe.

Green light. Sam cried out in shock as his head slammed against the cool leather of the seat. His previously dormant seatbelt now snaked its way over his chest and clicked securely into place nanoseconds after his jarred collision, and the boy could only watch helplessly as the race ensued. Tires screeched, pistons screamed with fury, and solid color became streaks of light as both competitors jumped forward eagerly.

It was a ferocious battle based on speed and driving capability, and in these categories the two classic vehicles were nearly matched. Bumblebee would shoot out ahead of the Challenger with a burst of energy that was foreign to the automobile-savvy inhabitants of the planet, but in turn, the Autobot's aggressor would immediately remove the minute distance that had been placed between them and remain neck-to-neck with the Camaro. Growing aggravated with this ongoing tiebreaker, Bumblebee saw a forthcoming opportunity that would permanently establish his place in the lead.

Yellow light. An approaching stoplight burned brightly and savagely as if resisting the street race and everything the event stood for. But everything was working exactly to the alien competitor's advantage; he continued to creep further and further ahead of the Challenger, who was slowing down in a weak gesture of stopping. The Autobot made no such gesture.

Red light. Not wanting to risk an immediate ticket, or worse, arrest, the Challenger was heard squealing from behind as its unleashed horsepower was reined in until it was brought to a hesitant halt. The Camaro, however, had reached one hundred miles per hour and there was no sign of braking in sight. Finally, after having been quiet and silently enjoying the thrill, the rush of the race up until this point, Sam shouted out in despair as they rocketed past the stoplight, and flew past the cars that had obeyed their signal and were beginning to pull out: "Bumblebee! _Red light_! Remember? You _stop _at those!"

There was a flash that the Autobot mistook for a blinding technique, so he increased his speed to try and escape this gratuitous trap. He did not intentionally mean to ignore his friend, but he thought ignorance had prevailed over bravery and Witwicky felt merely threatened by the unforeseen situation. Little did Bumblebee know, or _could _know, that Sam recognized the flash as the nettlesome warning belonging to one of the street cameras that were going to mean the doom to his wallet and its partial emptiness. "Oh great, I'm gonna get another ticket."

Bumblebee dared any machine to approach his friend and force any sort of misery upon him, as was this "tickets" duty, apparently.


	4. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part Four

**Author's Note: Okay, I promise this is going to be the last pathetically short Chapter to be updated for this novelization. I just had to get all of the less important events out of the way while still paying homage to the original comic for this story. Thank you for the patience and reviews, everyone!**

...

Young adults swarmed the area, happily conversing with one another and laughing heartily in clusters. Tall, proud trees were spread out over a large vicinity of the green haven, and although separated, were large enough to the extent where their leaves rustled and swayed with their neighbor's. Birds chirped merrily down at the visiting humans who either walked and talked or had taken a canoe for a refreshing bit of fun. The lake was a beautiful refuge away from the city life that locals had been raised in, while also providing gorgeous scenery for those who wanted to escape from their woes. A certain Autobot happened to be one of these refugees.

He sat calmly in the parking lot, enjoying a rest from the scolding's he had been receiving as of late and also giving his systems time to relax. Samuel was off with Mikaela, perusing the area with their typical carefree attitudes and lack of concern, leaving the Camaro with his private problems and thoughts.

Bumblebee was disappointed that his charge was so upset with him. He admitted that over the span of several days he had raised the small town of Tranquility to high alert due to his sincere methods at gaining the boy's trust. But all he had wished to gain out of his desperate proposals was friendship. He had gone so long without emotion, without being able to share feelings with another living being, due to the civil war and the hardships the battles left him to suffer with.

Then Sam came into his life, and changed everything. Witwicky was, to be perfectly honest, awkward and clumsy and didn't have a clue in the world – but to the yellow mech, this was a refreshing change from his constantly serious allies. To be an Autobot, or even a Decepticon, in this ongoing war meant to give up every shred of remaining hope of ever seeing a time where peace existed between the two factions. Although both sides tired of the fighting and the death and the destruction, the disputes between the opposing alien people were nonnegotiable. It seemed that one of the two groups would have to die out if the Transformers would ever have hope of reestablishing a future for their remaining kind and Cybertron.

But Sam gave him hope. He loved the innocence in the boy, the undying nerve he possessed and the brilliant sense of humor. All of it had made the Camaro attracted to the Witwicky prodigy even from the moment he was bought from the slummy car dealership.

Now Bumblebee could not help but realize that he used the boy – he strived for the boy's attention – because he was a stabilizing anchor in an otherwise insane universe. Bumblebee had lost so many friends, so many brothers, over an artifact that easily could have been shared. Thinking over all of the "what ifs" and endless scenarios where violence was unnecessary infuriated the soldier. It made him feel guilt, remorse, for having destroyed the lives of countless Cybertronian's that at one point would have never even _thought _over the idea of doing him harm.

But Samuel Witwicky made him forget those harsh times, and the savage thoughts that attacked his CPU with blaming stings. Sam had stopped the war, if not forever, then momentarily. Bumblebee was not ignorant – there were more Decepticon's outside of Megatron's personal pack. A few of them out of the original group had even survived. But to think that there could be a hiatus in the fighting made Bumblebee's spark swell with gratefulness.

And back then, Sam had accepted him. He had _wanted _the Camaro to be his guardian. The moment Bumblebee had managed to utter the request: "I wish to stay with the boy", Sam had attached himself, like a toddler to a new toy, to the advanced alien robot.

But maybe that is all Sam truly saw him as, was a 'new toy'. Perhaps he had outlived his playfulness and was now just a reminder to Sam of the responsibility he still harbored. And perhaps it was that lack of a friendly foundation – that lack of reassurance – that made him so edgy around his charge. Around the Autobot's he at least felt a familiar security being surrounded by the comrades he had started out this horrible journey with. But around Sam, well, he couldn't help but feel abandoned and used at times, despite the extreme adoration they felt for each other. Besides, the poor organic knew nothing of feelings that the yellow mech possessed, he only assumed that he was too 'advanced' to have a spark… To have anything resembling emotion other than the fake expressions the Autobot occasionally used to amuse the boy. How could Witwicky know that he was as vulnerable as an infant? By Cybertronian years, he would probably come out to be near the age of this small human if the infinite list of numbers could be factored down to a rough estimate. But how would Sam know of this?

How could the boy know that each second he left his car alone, the Camaro delved deeper and deeper into the horrors of his past? How could the boy know that Bumblebee's guardianship over him came from an inner desire to reverse the mistakes he had throughout his life span? How could the boy know that Bumblebee tended to resort to rash action when concerning the safety and well being of his charge merely because he was what kept the yellow Autobot sane? Once upon a time his alien allies had been enough to keep him ignorantly blissful. But they were gone, and Bumblebee had to cope with who he had.

In the end, he knew he was just feeling self-pittance for the tough life he had endured so far. The boy should not have to mentally suffer as he did every day. Let the youngling enjoy his limited life span without worry of how his vehicle was feeling or…

THWAM.

**Without the structure of my old team, it seems as though I act on _impulse _now. Bad news for _this _guy.**

Bumblebee made sure to remain perfectly still as the man he had just ruthlessly knocked down lay hunched on the ground, completely shocked. So deep in thought that he had drifted into an unconscious state of being, the edgy Camaro had accidently smacked the driver's side door of his alternate mode straight into an unsuspecting bystander. To his defense, however, it would seem that the hooligan had been making an attempt at jimmying his car lock, and thus, the retaliation was no doubt acceptable.

Bumblebee could have hit himself straight in the thought processor for bringing upon Witwicky's wrath once again though, as his charge came running forward, Mikaela in hand. Great timing, the Autobot groaned quietly, twitching on his shocks as he itched to drive away and go hide under a car port; of course Samuel had to be on his way in time to see such an attack.

"Your car... hit me... man." the Mexican American moaned, rubbing his aching head to try and keep his body from swaying back and forth from the impact.

"Yeah, um..." Think, Witwicky, think! "There's a factory recall on that. I need to call it in."

It was good thinking, and a wave of relief rippled throughout the crowd that had gathered to witness the trouble. Everyone was exhilarated that they didn't have another Mission City mystery on their hands (if only they knew).

There were still curious individuals running forward to assess the situation when Sam cheerfully added, "And maybe an ambulance. You know... For you, I think."

At this, Bumblebee finally received a glare from his boy. The Autobot hunkered down into his self and tried his hand at not existing. But stares and raised eyebrows were still thrown in his direction haphazardly, and he was aware of every single one.

If ever there were a time Bumblebee would have to present himself to the Tranquility public eye, it would be now, merely to embarrassingly run away.


	5. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part Five

**Author's Note: The lack of Barricade thus far in this comic adaption is depressing. Curse you Bumblebee, and your popularity amongst Transformers fans! I also would like to thank Ouchimoo for supporting me to such great lengths thus far in this novelization - she's reviewed every single Chapter and I sincerely hope will continue to do so :) And props to you other reviewers too, I love you all!**

**P.S: I agree with you Ouchimoo in that they could have shown the civilian side of Bee until the point where we see the soldier in him. Given how he acts in the movie, I don't think he's as uptight as Mr. Mowry portrays him to be. There's a reason behind every action, and I don't think we get to see enough of that!**

...

Samuel Witwicky was not easily pestered. His friend Miles had taught him a patience that could rival that of a dial-up computer. However, Bumblebee was beginning to throw a lot of simple situations out of their normalcy to a level where he couldn't control them. And Sam was quick to lose his temper the moment he had no authority over what was going on around him. He wasn't necessarily angry that his alien protector was trying to do his job (a job that should have been finished when Megatron had been rendered deceased, anyways); he was mostly upset because his best friend was being so uptight about his guarding duties. The boy felt humbled that he was so important to someone, especially someone he cared about. But there was such a feat as taking something _too far_.

Sam was also under the distinct impression that Bumblebee was becoming slightly _attached _to him. It could have been the overall _need _to guard him from all obstacles life presented (which were, ironically, obstacles that the Autobot usually ended up finding) and the _desire _to be with him every waking second of the day that alerted the boy to such adoration Bumblebee felt for him. When he thought about a proper term for this addiction other than _obsession _and _bat shit crazy_, he came to the conclusion that _puppy love _was capable even by the most advanced of species'. Of course, this was not the case, but Witwicky felt the connection was there. This led him to feel obliged to begin the difficult conversation that would at some point need to take place.

"So what are you going to do when I get _accepted _to school?"

It had been an issue that had been brought up and buried several times, but Sam knew that the topic needed to be tackled directly. Not only did they need to figure out some sort of housing situation for 'Bee and either deport him or make room for him, but the boy also wanted them to move on. After all, Sam didn't want the last few weeks with his guardian to be filled with strain and arguing; he wanted to enjoy the limited time he would have with his family (both organic and robotic).

Bumblebee knew he was in trouble. He knew this because Sam had refused to speak to him for an entire day. All attempts at radio speech had been passively dismissed and even a pathetic, broken apology (_S-S-Soooo...rrrr...y-y-y, Sam.)_ received little more than a peeved glance. Today had been a new day at least, and Sam had calmed down after the fiasco at the lake. But the Autobot was still surprised when his charge decided to strike up a calm (if not touchy) conversation. He loved them, but Bumblebee got bloody tired of the constant mood swings humans continuously went through. But he felt how the boy did - let the past go, and try and enjoy the time they would have together until the Autobot's required his presence again. Poor Bumblebee was unaware that Sam had no intentions of bringing him out for his freshmen year at college.

As soon as the question was presented, an immediate response sang through the radio: "_Where you go... I'll follow._"

Witwicky liked Bumblebee; he was a neat friend. And that was purely looking at the personality of the energized mech, not taking into consideration the alien aspect involved in their relationship. But there existed comforts Sam desperately wanted to return to, and normalcy was one of them. And if the normalcy he insisted upon meant detaching from his closest friend, then it was something that would have to be done. His theory went something like this: have greatest time of his life with greatest friend ever for the forthcoming weeks, leave greatest friend ever and go to college, get an education, become the beloved star of his family, and somewhere in the process convince Bumblebee to return to the Autobot's where he was needed more. No sacrifice, no victory.

"I'd like that," Sam responded, leaning lazily back in the Camaro's reclined seat. The leather that seemed to fold into every crevice of his body to form the most comfortable of cushions was taken for granted as Witwicky folded his hands over his head nervously, "But I don't know if that's a great idea." Then the ice-breaking sentence was spoken, "Aren't you _needed _with the Autobots?"

Bumblebee was almost relieved he relied on radio clips for speech, as he wouldn't want his charge to hear his contempt if he had used his vocalizer. Instead, a quick burst of a song barked out of his speakers, "_Step back, Jack..."_

"I don't mean anything by it, pal. Just want you to _understand_ that I'm going to school soon and you might _not _be able to go is all."

"_You're my number one_."

Sam sighed, knowing that this was going to be more difficult than originally anticipated. He tilted his head back to stare at the sculptured ceiling of the car's interior, then decided to buy himself time to think of a response by pretending to stare out the Camaro's window at the passing vehicles sharing the freeway. The yellow sports ride had obviously dominated this portion of the road for its personal use, and most other cars surrounding it had stayed behind so as to not aggravate a challenge out of the powerful muscle car. Only an oblivious red van had pulled up next to it, unconscious of the alien it was driving alongside.

"Uh-oh." Sam gasped as he bolted upright, gripping onto Bumblebee's steering wheel. The passenger of the red van saw the lack of driver the Camaro possessed and had been flailing around wildly to try and point this out to the driver. However, when the driver did swivel his head around to see what the matter was, all he saw was a nervous teenager behind the wheel of a top end roadster.

Sam waved politely at the gaping passenger, and was saved from further embarrassment when Bumblebee sped up to put several kilometers of distance between his charge and the red van.

"Thanks. Maybe you can _stay_ at mom and dads while I'm away?"

There would be holidays and special occasions where he could come down and visit Bumblebee and his family. He still had to keep in touch with Mikaela (heh, literally, he thought), too. His parents would doubtfully have an issue with his friend residing in their empty garage for a while.

...

"Absolutely not, Sam! Not after _last_ time!"

If Sam had ever misgauged someone's reaction to a proposed idea, this mistake took the first prize ribbon. What had started out as a nonchalant mentioning of an idea had turned into an all out shouting match in the kitchen of the Witwicky household. The walls shook with rage as Sam tried to explain the lack of ramifications of keeping his Autobot friend around while he was away: "But dad, he stays in the garage. He watches _TV_ in there, he won't go on the lawn!"

"You better believe it." Ronald Witwicky barked.

"Listen to your father, Sam." Judith Witwicky said calmly, trying to bring down the noise level and assuage her two boy's boiling tempers.

"Mom, he'll be fine. Besides, _where's _he going to go?" Sam demanded, brushing off his mother in order to rekindle the argument with his less understanding parent. He felt he owed _something_ to Bumblebee after all that he had done, after what he had sacrificed. For Christ's sake, he didn't have a _home planet_! Why the hell were his parents being so uncooperative with just letting him stay in a small vicinity of their home?

Ron let out an aggravated sigh, bringing up a hand to clutch his temple as he breathed deeply.

"How about back to his own _kind_?" Mr. Witwicky snapped. He spoke as if he were refusing to let his son keep a stray cat found in the bowels of a dumpster. "You've done your part, son. You don't owe _them_ anything."

There was that choice of words again, the type his dad used to separate _we _from _them_. It infuriated Sam to no end.

And then, the decision was made with another obnoxious huff of air. "He can stay here for the _summer_, but that's it."

Sam threw his arms up to continue the fight and convince his parents how brutal of a choice they had made. He almost got a sentence out to show them the unfair situation when Mr. Witwicky interrupted. "When you go to school, he leaves. End of discussion. You both _need _to grow up."

"But..." the severity of his father's harsh statement blew into him, knocking the wind out of his comeback.

"...Fine."

"Sam, where are you going?!" Judith called, concerned even as her husband crossed his arms over his large stomach in victory.

"I'm going to Mikaela's." Then, "She's _mad _at Miles for some reason."

He slammed the kitchen door and made as much noise as possible storming towards the front door. They thought he was _immature_?! They were under the impression that he needed to _grow up_?! After all he had endured and sacrificed, they still pictured him as a _kid_?!

Another door slammed as Sam exited the house. Bumblebee had heard the commotion and blinked on his headlights as his charge came stomping around the corner. Samuel noticed that the Camaro was waiting patiently in the garage, engine running, in preparation to take him to whatever destination he required.

"Hey, 'Bee." the boy acknowledged. "I'll be at Mikaela's."

Bumblebee revved his motor readily.

"Sorry, but I'm going to _walk_. I need to think about some stuff."

The young man did just as he said and wandered towards the sidewalk, sticking his hands angrily into his pants pockets. Bumblebee waited until he could no longer scan the boy through low-powered visual range sensors, then reversed his way back into his spot in the garage and shut down his assumed vehicle. With intensified audio receptors that only a scout of his status could have acquired, Bumblebee heard every word, emotion, and syllable of the argument that had taken place between the boy and his creators. He deducted that Sam deserved a little time away from the world, and that the route to his mate's house was short. Besides, the Earth's sunset was still shedding its last tentacles of light on this side of the planet, and darkness was still a ways off.

It wouldn't hurt for the boy to have some alone time with this thoughts.

...

**TWENTY MINUTES LATER**

Sam kicked at a stray rock as his footsteps pounded across the cement of the path he was taking to his girlfriend's house. Mikaela did happen to be upset with Miles, but that was not what was bothering the young man at this time. There were so many issues bellowing for solutions inside of his cranium, that he couldn't help but wonder how easy it would be to run away from the problems. How much easier would it be without an alien war of epic proportions taking place on his beloved Earth? How much easier would it be without his parents constantly ruining what was supposed to be _his _life? Most of Sam's anger was coated around self pity, with a thick layer of angst smothered onto the emotional surface that was his heart, but he couldn't help but stray to the idea that running and hiding sounded like a damn good plan.

But then again, even if he wanted to bring his outrageous resolution into reality, where would he go? Sam looked up from his thoughts and gazed at the world surrounding him. Night had fallen more quickly than anticipated, and lights blinked and shifted throughout the city as people adjusted to the evening's thick shroud of black. The constant thrum of faraway cars added to the reality that there wasn't a single place on the planet that was not already inhabited. Even if the boy could find means of leaving this life behind, there was no hiding in such an overpopulated realm.

And then there was Bumblebee.

Sam sighed, fingering the cell phone inside of his pocket as he came to a halt. He really should have called his friend to apologize for any attitude that had been directed towards him. Half the incidents his guardian had partaken in weren't his fault, but Sam's extreme stress had blinded all judgment over the situations. Then again, he would see his guardian soon. When he got home, he could try and patch any remaining harsh feelings up and move on to some party time in his hometown before he had to leave.

Sam smiled, looking both ways before crossing the street towards Mikaela's residence. Party time in the city with Bumblebee - that was going to be a crazy night.

An approaching car's headlights illuminated the road a short distance away as Witwicky was in the middle of the two sided road. Sam calmly retrieved his hands out of his pockets to hustle out of the way. In the spur of the moment, picturing Bumblebee dancing to club hits like "Right Round" and "Boom Boom Pow", Sam was too distracted with trying to figure out if a robot had the capability of getting drunk to notice that the forthcoming vehicle was slowing down. The star-crossed human also took fail to notice the familiar, intimidating body style of the Saleen that was casually working its way nearer and nearer.

Sam was mere feet away from the curb of the sidewalk across from the one he had started off on when he began to notice something strange. The headlights of the car he had remained out of the way for did not pass per usual. Instead, two shining white bulbs blinded his vision as the menace raced up and screeched to a halt directly in front of him. Sam barely had time to react physically and turn his head towards the impending danger before the menacing sound of a transformation began to take place.

_CHK-CHAK-CHK-CHK._

Sam stared in unadulterated horror, especially when an all too recognizable visage began to form out of the jumbled mess that was the looming Decepticon. The boy held up his hands, shielding his eyes from the penetrating lights of what made up the chest. All he had time to scream before his evening was destroyed with the sweep of a very large, very _sharp_ claw was, "Oh no n—"

…

**HOURS LATER**

"And that brings us to our clip of the week…"

The audience roared with applause, their clapping fueling the excitement of the show host. The television glow shined dully against the dark armor of the soldier who sat in the darkness, watching these "funny" snippets from America's Funniest Home Videos. It seemed to be a popular program, but the Autobot could not understand why humans thought it hilarious to witness the physical injury of other humans. Perhaps it was an instinctive reaction to cruel entertainment that had been passed down from even more brutal ancestors of the human race.

The Camaro maneuvered his way towards his accustomed recharge area in the small garage, which occupied the space of a corner near Mr. Witwicky's gardening and construction tools. Enough studying had been done for the night, now energy would need to be conserved for whatever adventures the next day would bring. Bumblebee began to snuggle down onto his shocks, his headlights coming to life in the darkness for a moment while he got comfortable. Then the beam began to lose its intensity as systems began to power down.

**I pass my time learning what I can about _human culture_. I owe it to Sam.**

**But just as I'm prepared to shut down for the night…**

Ron!

The garage lights flickered on in unison with the Camaro's when he sensed the man's presence. The engine of the yellow car automatically sprang to life as the older human came running in from the single doorway leading into the Autobot's temporary home.

"Bumblebee!" he yelled frantically, not bothering to keep his voice down in his fear, "You need to find Sam. Mikaela just called and he _never_ made it over there."

"_Nowhere to hide. Gonna find you._"

The Camaro's tires screeched against the smooth cement of the floor as he whipped around in the direction of the garage door.

Through the building smoke, Ronald shouted, "Wait! I'm going with—"

Bumblebee completely ignored the man's request as he slammed full force into the thick roll-up garage door. Wood and metal splintered and flew in every direction as he forced his way through the barrier, no longer feeling the need to reserve energy as his fuel lines were pumping and racing with anxiety.

**With no time to waste, I follow our usual path to Mikaela's residence.**

No one saw the Camaro's body passing by on the quiet streets, and even if there were an observer in the still area, all they would be able to distinguish out of the darkness was a yellow blur and the rev of an infuriated vehicle. Bumblebee was in such a rush that he barely touched the brakes for a little road critter that had scampered out in front of him. Luckily, the raccoon bounded off towards no neighborhood in particular and avoided a messy collision with the frantic Autobot.

Bumblebee had a suspicion over what had occurred, but he sincerely wished he was to be proven wrong.

**As I scan local police and news broadcasts looking for _clues_, I get one.**

"Authorities are blaming the signs on the same hackers made famous for their zombie warnings."

Bumblebee screeched to a noisy halt, reversing with his same frantic sloppiness to roar onto a ramp that led to the freeway out of the suburbia. Honks and shouts and rude gestures followed the Camaro everywhere he went as he headed in the specified direction of the "signs" mentioned.

**I fear the worst. And before long…**

The Autobot squeezed in between rows of cars on the express lane, and then it came into view.

**…That fear is _realized_.**

Bumblebee silently cursed himself and the enemy that had taken Sam. He should have finished that damn Decepticon when he had the _chance_!

**It's a _warning_…**

The soldier passed the sign which sported large, clear letters of Cybertronian across it…

**…And a _challenge_.**

…And kept going. He knew exactly where his old rival would be awaiting him for their final showdown.

No one could possibly fathom that the strange symbols stamped across the sign were of such significance: "_THE ALLSPARK FOR THE BOY"._


	6. Tales of the Fallen 1: Part Six

**Author's Note: Wow, this only took a ridiculous amount of time to get posted. Honestly, all of the forces in the Universe have been conspiring against me. My computer was destroyed, raped, then burned, so I had to go and order another one. After installing that, I developed a severe case of Writer's Block and so have postponed both this, and the original novel I'm currently working on. I'm sure everyone is prepared to throw me overboard, so all I can honestly do is beg for a soft landing!**

...

Too long, he had awaited this meager payback. Too long, he had had to stand by and recover his strength in the shadows as the Autobot's obliterated his faction. Too long, he was denied a revenge he had been desperate to obtain for month after month. So now that this opportunity to put to rest his need for vengeance was available, he was not very patient when it came to fulfilling his desire.

"Where is Bumblebee, LadiesMan217?"

Actually, Bumblebee was not the main concern, when referring to the mission, anyways. Another small token, obtained by Optimus Prime at the conclusion of the Mission City battle, was the objective set out to fulfill. But that didn't mean Barricade was here primarily for business purposes. After all, if questions weren't answered by the yellow Autobot and his pet meat creature, there were always other links to satisfy the black mech's thirst for information.

Poor Samuel was experiencing firsthand just how impatient a Decepticon could be. Barricade was the definition of intimidating; a single one of his fangs would have been enough to completely mutilate and tear open his sensitive flesh. Even the body of the police interceptor was as pointed as his claws and as black as his heart; that is, if he had a heart. Sam was pretty sure that there wasn't anything beating behind that thick layer of alien armor. But somehow, although Sam's thoughts were as frequent and jagged as his breathing, the boy managed to sputter out a reply.

"I don't know wher--"

Or at least, he tried to, before being rudely interrupted.

"Where is the Allspark _fragment_? I want an answer!"

Well, frankly, that killed any chance of Sam being able to spew anything further resembling a response. Red optics stared up into his innocent, terrified eyes, and for a moment, neither made any movement. Then Barricade began to reach up with one of those Devil-spawned digits, and Witwicky shook around violently as if the chain holding him would break as easily as his pride had. Of course it didn't, and the construction vehicle's hook that was holding him up over a junkyard car smasher spited his efforts by not budging, as well.

"Answer me," the evil Cybertronian began threateningly, his attitude portraying a clear lack of tolerance, and evident impatience made more obvious by one of the massive knives he called a finger being hovered over the boy's chest, "or your _life fluid_ will be drained--" For effect, the cruel Decepticon added menacingly, "--_slowly_."

Sam shivered involuntarily and yelled (at a higher pitch then he personally would have preferred), "I don't know about a fragment. You have to believe me!"

The shriek of metal twisting and clamping and fraying in opposite and unnatural directions erupted into the eardrums of LadiesMan. He reactively threw his feet up into the air as if the vehicle demolisher below were set on gobbling him whole. Glass panes shattered and one of the left front tires flew off and bounced into the heaps of garbage surrounding Barricade's tool of torture. The Decepticon retracted his hand from the remote he had activated to start the compactor, and enlightened Witwicky to the reality of death. But even as a cube of metal - what had once been a murky green Toyota - sat below the squirming human to demonstrate his forthcoming fate, Sam said nothing further. He refused speech because he was positive that this was the police cruiser's sick way of requesting silence. Even if he thought this was the next step in the interrogation, and he had the audacity to betray the Autobot's and provide the bullying Saleen with information, he had no legitimate information to give.

A dark, sinister chuckle erupted from the throat of the dastardly police interceptor as he straightened back and glanced at the mangled scrap heap below LadiesMan217. "If you _live_, I might." He sneered. "Time's up." He raised his claw once more, ready to deliver an indirect blow to his yellow rival by obliterating this bag of meat he had developed such a disgusting connection with. He didn't need a bargaining chip to receive what he wanted, after all.

"_Stop_!"

Barricade stared up at the defiant boy, who he believed was the one to foolishly declare he take this action. His sharp crest snapped to the side, however, as he heard swift, pounding footsteps approach to his side.

"_Ready to go!_"

Barricade gnashed his fangs violently as he recognized the Autobot scum closing in on him. The Decepticon turned, preparing to fight, but was too late to be the first to deliver a blow. He was thrust back with a heated push, stumbling to the ground as he was caught off guard by the quick bug's unusual aggressiveness. Bumblebee was a great protector; but under his own code of honor, he was normally not the one to throw the first punch. Representing opposition to this thought, Barricade collided with the rough earth as the Camaro worriedly shouted the fleshbag's name ("S-Sam!"). Unfortunately, the guardian was not given sufficient time to perform his rescue. The fallen Saleen immediately stood, not a scratch visible on the outer surface of his armor, only dust coated over parts of his body. He was quick to shake the alien particles off and focus his attention on the enemy struggling to free the Earth creature.

Bumblebee was fumbling with Witwicky's chains in an attempt to grab the human and run, but Barricade would not easily allow his prisoner - and its guardian - to escape.

"_Rarrrgh!_" The Decepticon swept his leg up in an arch as soon as he stormed into a close enough range to attack the pathetic couple. He connected his foot with the midsection of the Autobot, the clash sending the yellow mech flying in the opposite direction from Witwicky. With his rushed reflexes, the Saleen was able to keep his enemy from landing too far as he snapped a gnarled fist into the helm of the airborne foe, watching with delight as a sickening _klang_ rendered the Autobot immobile long enough for him to continue his onslaught. Without a second to waste, Barricade reached down, clasped onto the sides of the worthless scout, and threw him gratuitously into the ground just to obtain cheap satisfaction in watching him squirm.

"This _planet_ has made you weak, Bumblebee." He growled as he persisted in keeping his proximity with the human's guardian, "Our fights used to be somewhat of a _challenge_."

The black mech easily lifted the smaller, struggling bug and threw him once more, but this time into the hulking clutches of the compactor he had previously planned on using against LadiesMan.

"Your "victory" _last_ meeting was pure _luck_." Red optics shone threateningly through the dim darkness surrounding the group as these harsh words were spoken.

Bumblebee's head sagged weakly as his systems tried to recuperate from the savage hits he had thus far endured. His abdomen and lower body was scraped and missing in several places due to the tight fit in between the jaws of the junkyard weapon and the less than motherly way the black brute squeezed him into its clutches. Then just for the sake of providing further meaningless discomfort, but also taking precaution against being interrupted again, the Decepticon tightened the hold on his counterpart by using the compactor's controls once more.

Satisfied that Bumblebee was no longer an issue, the ground trooper's body rose to its full, perturbing height and the eyes of the monstrosity automatically locked onto its previous prey.

"Now..."

Sam's bounds had become loosened enough (thanks to his beloved Camaro) for him to have been released from the chains that had once bound him, but he was still in danger. A chill crept up the spine of Witwicky, and he turned to realize what caused the involuntary sensation.

"...Where _were _we?"

Barricade curled his sharpened digits into fists as he stomped forward towards the boy, the scrap of the junkyard being reduced to worthless sheet metal as the enormous Decepticon flattened a path. Sam scrambled to his feet desperately, and then bolted for safety the moment he was on level ground. Where was his guardian?!

Sam didn't have long to dwell on the abrupt disappearance of Bumblebee. He ran as fast as his feet could humanely allow, and then pushed himself harder to evade the clutches of Barricade. He had been man-handled by the police interceptor before... and he did not want to have to experience that sheer horror again, if he could help it.

For a few, joyous moments, Witwicky stopped to catch his breath and saw that the evil Decepticon was nowhere in sight. Witwicky was unaware of the mist that was slowly, unnoticeably, settling over the area as the damp weather increased. However, a dark, omnipresent growl penetrated the seconds of silence Sam had settled into, and the boy began his terrified sprint once more. Fog lights blinked to life only yards away from where Sam had stopped to rest, outlining a foreboding silhouette of the hulking hunter. His heart raced wildly, adrenaline pushing his body to flee from what was causing the pure, animal instinctive of fear that clouded his mind of all other thought processes.

There was a sadistic twinkle to Barricade's optics as he happily monitored the heart rate of his victim. There was nothing left to do now, as there was no other way he could further terrify the human, so the emotionless Decepticon retracted his dormant gyro flails and released the spiked rim that made up the sharp end of the weapon. With a terrible _whrrr_, it hissed through the air surreptitiously and flew in a straight path towards Witwicky. If Sam hadn't glanced back to estimate how much distance he had covered, he would have been impaled and instantly lost his life. He ducked instinctively with an "Hnn!", and was lucky to have missed a collision with the weapon as it clinked uselessly over him and swept back obediently towards its owner.

Impatiently, Barricade sent out the gyro flail located on his other arm while all this was occurring. "No!" Sam had stood only to instantly panic and throw his body into the sharp, metal littered ground a second time to avoid a duplicate of the destructive weapon. Blood dripped from open wounds and serious scrapes adorned his forearms as he struggled to pick up his torn and battered body. He slowly rose from the ground, his injuries evidently draining his energy, only to find that Barricade was hovering menacingly over him, not an inch available to retreat from the ugly visage bearing down on him. The missing gyro flail on the Deception's right arm swirled over Sam's head and reconnected effortlessly with where its spot amongst Barricade's weapons lay. The police interceptor had found a position in front of the human's next escape route and placed himself there while the boy had simultaneously been avoiding the fatal rotating rims.

Sam panted, slumped forward with defeat. His (admittedly pathetic) efforts of finding safety were all for nothing; Barricade had been toying with him this entire time. "You're not going anywhere." the spoken of Decepticon chuckled darkly, solidifying the fact that the game of cat and mouse had been just that - a game.

The only regret Sam thought of at that exact moment, when he was staring Death straight in the visage, was that he had never been able to spend that one crazy going-away night with Bumblebee. Even an opportunity to apologize to his friend would have sufficed.

Bumblebee, from his isolated front row view meters away, had been angry before, but was now boiling with rage. The infuriation seeped from his pounding spark into the circuitry connecting with the life provider, pouring over any other emotion struggling to present itself through the thick layer of fury. Sam had fought hard to earn his freedom, and all he received, instead of even an ounce of respect, was a cruel one-sided chase to further exhaust and humiliate him. Even more infuriating was the fact that Barricade was merely taunting his prey - LadiesMan217 - for the sake of angering his yellow rival. And he was doing a hell of a job.

Bumblebee bristled as the Deception's head tilted dangerously low towards his charge, optics concentrated solely on the boy as he bullied a pitiful whimper out of the harmless, _innocent_, flesh creature. Angry fits of electrical currents flooded his systems as he sought vengeance for the brutality Sam had unnecessarily endured. The Autobot used brute strength to slowly, but surely, spread apart the thick vices of the compactor and bring to conclusion what should have been finished years ago.

Oil pumped furiously to the hydraulics forcing his muscular arms to tear at the grip the car smasher had on his body. With a sudden release of power, Bumblebee ripped apart the imprisoning sides of the tool that had held him snugly in place.

"_Keep it tuned here, where the hits keep on comin'!_"

The sudden blast of sound from some radio talk show, coupled with the noise generated by his struggle with the junkyard vehicle destroyer, caught Barricade's astute attention as Bumblebee had hoped it would. Focusing on Sam, unlike his surprised Decepticon counterpart, the Autobot lunged and skidded through the various sized piles of junk, passing his shocked rival and catching Sam in his hand. He continued only for a short distance until his momentum slowed and his scratched body came to a halt at the foot of a small hill. Pushing Samuel away, hoping the young boy wouldn't need a command to run, the brightly colored Camaro dragged himself to a standing position with the reluctant help of his tired arms.

"You again!" Barricade barked, running only to a point where he could launch off the ground to throw himself at the annoying Autobot, "Well, let's jus--_hnn_!"

Bumblebee was fed up with the antics of the Saleen and his talkative ways. Turning with only the agile movements a scout could muster, the vengeful guardian hurled his entire forearm into the mid-air Decepticon, hoping that the landing would be just as painful as the initial impact with his fist was.

The Autobot lurked forward, his right arm mindlessly transforming into the plasma cannon he favored over all other available weapons. Steam rose from the charging gun as he prepared to finish off his long time foe. Barricade was not easily defeated in combat, however.

Red optics gleamed as the police interceptor immediately recognized the whirring sound of a generating cannon.

Blue optics shone strongly as the weapon was raised, level with Barricade's spark for when he unconsciously turned and met his fate. However, the Decepticon was prepared. With the swish of air being the only alarm of the dark mech's intentions, the black soldier turned nimbly and slashed his ready gyro flail straight through the plasma cannon that had been ready to shoot him dead.

Bumblebee let forth an inhumane shriek of agony as the vicious metal tore haphazardly through his armor, and his most precious weapon was obliterated with a flick of his enemy's wrist.

Barricade found this loss utterly amusing as sparks flew from where his rival's armor had once protected him, and where now lay a naked appendage. Taking advantage of Bumblebee's intense distraction, the brutal Decepticon punched the bug across the visage with enough force to knock him helplessly to the ground, and then proceeded to slamming his pointed foot into the chest of the Autobot.

"Ha! You can't _talk_, but you sure can _scream!_" The Decepticon mocked as the Camaro released another pained shout, flopping uselessly upon the ground as his enemy chuckled darkly. Stooping down to retrieve a large, purple junkyard vehicle, Barricade now hovered over the yellow mech with a new threat. Under normal circumstances, the Earth car would have proved to be as dangerous as a flick to the foot, but with Bumblebee's defenses properly neutralized from their fight thus far, the crushing force would be enough to either crimple him further, or worse, put him into a stasis lock.

But although his defense mechanisms had been weakened, Bumblebee was not out of the fight yet. His injured arm spitting out sparks from where the initial wound was, the Autobot quickly hefted himself off the ground and spun violently into the Decepticon, parts clicking and gears switching as he transformed into his alternative form. Only squealing forward a couple of meters, the Camaro began to break apart and transform once more as the dazed Saleen started to recuperate from the unforeseen blow.

Barricade stumbled awkwardly to his feet, just in time to straighten up and smash into the bipedal robot mode of the swift Autobot. The yellow soldier hurled himself into his black opponent with all the hate and frustration that could be mustered, mercy pushed aside as he remembered the physical and mental abuse Sam had languished through because of the merciless nature of the Decepticon he was fighting. The pair tackled through the unfinished skeleton of a building that was in the process of being constructed, an entire brick wall crashing down around the couple as they connected.

Amongst the rubble of what had once been a stone structure, the rivals were separated by the chaos that had followed the crash. Bumblebee, depleted of most of his energy from the short but brutal brawl, took several luxurious seconds to regenerate his strength. He sensed the Decepticon moving; at first it was a twitch, but then with an infuriated growl, the monster was beginning to stand. Bumblebee used his destroyed right arm as a crutch as he maneuvered his forearm to help hold him up. Hopefully Barricade was having as much of a difficult time due to the draining impact.

But the Decepticon wasn't. Powerful hydraulics hauled the enormous body of the police interceptor quickly to his feet, only as the Autobot a short distance away was starting to reach a kneeling position. Taking advantage of his slow competitor, Barricade scanned around for another weapon to beat the limp form to a mere pulp. As he started to straighten, his claws dragged a heavy metal bar along with him, what had once been a support beam for the destroyed building surrounding the enemies. Barricade's red optics glowed ominously in the dark shrouding the combatants under its thick, black blanket. The blood red orbs narrowed to slits as the beam was lifted and brought heavily down in the direction of Bumblebee.

The yellow Autobot jumped forward, a defensive set of tires thrown up in front of him as a shield. The metal weaponry clashed heatedly, screeching together while the opposing behemoths struggled against their counterpart as physical strength was relied on to beat the other in the lethal contest. Wasting no time when it became evident that the equals had reached a stalemate, Barricade swung his foot to the side and threw it into the already gentle abdomen of the yellow soldier, forcing a rush of air, "Oof!" out of the surprised Camaro.

Barricade basked in glory as the match was over and victory was reached, the loser quivering on the rough ground of the junkyard while awaiting his end. The Decepticon strode forward, his shoulders hunched back haughtily as Bumblebee was subjected to a battered heap, only able to glare but not manifest the hatred still flowing through his circuitry.

"You're finished!" the police interceptor hissed deridingly, his sharp digits clenched into a tight fist as he approached. He looked down at the visible visage of his long time rival. Their first fight upon Earth, Bumblebee had masked his faceplate during their engagement. Previous struggles had simply been the blows exchanged because of the sides of the battlefield they had occupied, so it had not been important that Barricade see the face of the enemy he was fighting.

But now, Bumblebee had refused to shield his visage from the opponent whom he had grown to despise. On Cybertron, duels were fought in this manner, both because of tradition and because of the hidden meaning behind presenting one's features to their opponent. If one's faceplate were uncovered during a battle, it was either due to boastful pride (in the Decepticon's case), or because the uncovered combatant was expecting the fight to be their last. During a duel of this type, since both contestants' visages were open, the loser's last image whilst among the functioning would be that of their killer.

With this thought boiling in his processor, Barricade smirked hideously as he bent over to deal the final blow. Bumblebee faced his death with an emotionless faceplate, matching his Decepticon rival's stare photon for photon. Barricade raised his fist and prepared to strike through the weak chest armor to remove the spark from the nettlesome bug...

"Hey, rent-a-cop!"

With an inhumane roar and a snap of his helm in the direction of the outburst, Barricade searched for the source of the interruption. Bumblebee recognized the voice, and gazed in wonder as well as a gleaming, silver claw streamed through the crisp, night air and collided into the taken aback Saleen. There was a sickening crack of metal on metal as the hook of a construction car rammed into the upper body of the Decepticon, throwing him back and away from the brave guardian angel.

"Uh-oh." Sam breathed, struggling with the controls of the vehicle as the previously threatening claw now swung lazily upon its chain, "Maybe these things aren't _that_ easy to operate."

Barricade had had enough. He slammed his fists into the ground and heaved himself into a standing position, his intimidating figure looming over Witwicky and his once dangerous weapon. "Give me that!" the Saleen roared, his booming voice vibrating the windows of the tool as he snatched the chain of the useless hook and snapped it from where it had hung. He threw the metal harmlessly to the side and grazed his fangs together as he returned his attention to the flesh creature.

The boy's eyes grew double in size as bright, quad optics blazed at him from the outside of the construction vehicle's front window, and gnarled claws buried themselves into the tread as the Decepticon began to lift the construction vehicle. Witwicky screamed as he tumbled through the cabin, somersaulting out the door and only managing to fling out a hand and catch hold of the sideways stairs.

Barricade lifted the machine up over his head and let LadiesMan dangle helplessly as he barked, "Nice try, insect. Is that the bes--"

Bumblebee threw the hook and chain of the construction vehicle into the side of the Decepticon's cranium, watching as the unbelievable momentum he swung the sharp object with swept Barricade off of his feet and sent his body over the fallen human and clattering into a pile of oil filled drums. The Autobot's arms tensed as he waited for the Decepticon to simply rise and resume the fight, but the sadistic Saleen remained eerily motionless. Only his claws twitched jerkily, reminding the Camaro that he was still online and was henceforth still a danger.

Dropping the construction claw, Bumblebee ran the couple of steps to his charge's side and swept him up in a careful, loving hand.

"_Let's boogie_." DJ Abdel instructed, the Autobot's eyes watching his boy intensely as he looked over the numerous bruises and cuts adorning his body. Luckily, it didn't seem as if he had sustained irreversible damage from the encounter.

"Thank you." Sam whispered, clutching the index and middle finger of his guardian, worried that they would be separated by mere oxygen, "You'd better call - look out!"

Samuel's last, terrified words spilled into the audio receptors of the yellow mech and made his antennas hitch up to a standing position as his gaze immediately flew to the once immobile Decepticon.

Barricade was standing, his form sagging from the immense blow but his overall stature only more frightening as he hunched forward. Oil dripped from his black body. "That's all you have left? Ha!" the police interceptor yelled, his deep monotone piercing the little space in between the rivals. "You lack a warrior's **_spark_**!"

Bumblebee stared directly into the awaiting red optics of the vengeful Saleen, unmoving. Sam watched, mortified, his eyes moving capriciously from yellow to black as he silently awaited a response, or some sort of action.

Finally, Bumblebee's hand tightened around Sam as he lowered him to the ground.

"See... you... s-soon." the Autobot crackled, his tone low but strong as he forced out the spoken statement.

"What do you mean?" Sam cried desperately, pushing his guardian's hand away when it tried to point him in the opposite direction. The fact that the yellow soldier had verbally spoken without the use of radio clips left him unappeased as he panicked with the thought of Bumblebee and that monster's fight continuing. "Come on, you gotta _leave!_ That's gasoline! We have to--"

"Go... friend."

Sam froze. Bumblebee... Bumblebee called him a friend. No sort of emotional attachment had ever been established with words. Sam knew they were friends, they were as close as brothers in fact, but... Bumblebee had never admitted it. The boy always assumed he was too manly - or too alien - to actually acknowledge their friendship or find any true meaning in the connection they had easily established.

Now, at the most inconvenient but special of times, the giant mech said it.

"Run!" Bumblebee declared urgently as he turned and noticed that the boy was still stalling. Sam looked up with a newfound respect at his friend, then turned and hustled off to a safer area.

Satisfied, even touched by the boy's fond gaze, Bumblebee immediately hardened as he watched Barricade storm forward amidst the spilled puddles of oil and the empty canisters littered around him.

"_Spark?_" Bumblebee repeated, his voice restrained but emanating power as the Autobot and Decepticon got closer. Facing each other, staring down their opposite, Bumblebee and Barricade waited tensely for the other to make the first move.

"Lack..." Bumblebee lunged forward, knocked away an offending blow and delivering one of his own; "_Spark?_"

Already weak, Barricade twisted onto his side from the ground he had been knocked to and glared up, but malice slowly trickled into horror as he saw his rival's cannon finish forming. What had once been a savagely broken arm had now regenerated into its original deadly weapon.

"Try... this..."

"No no no--" Barricade pleaded, but Bumblebee went undeterred as he fired.

Sparks ignited around the cannon as it released an intense blast of plasma from its gaping mouth. Heat, only matched by the sun and its daughter stars, shot straight towards the oil drenched Decepticon, taking only a matter of astroseconds before exploding into the arm of the black foe. The last image Barricade carried into his memory banks before he was wrenched backwards, was Bumblebee's harsh optics glaring forward with no remorse, no regret, for his actions.

The world exploded around them, everything varying from an unfortunate junkyard cat to a halfway demolished Dodge truck lighting up and smelting into oblivion. A shockwave rippled through the area, blowing even the heaviest of trash hundreds of yards in random directions. Sam, who had been taking refuge behind a pile of this garbage, was knocked back off his feet and went flailing through the air, rocks and dust pelting him endlessly as he flew. The boy only managed to scream his friend's name before he went diving into the ground and went momentarily unconscious. Rocks, cement, and earth, continued to soar even as the blast's impact began to settle and roaring fires spotted throughout the place dwindled to small embers. Ignitable objects landed on a few of these burning areas, however, and fresh flames leaped up from the ground and stretched their mighty tentacles to the velvet sky above.

Witwicky twitched, shook his head from the black that had previously enveloped his mind, then coughed violently as the smoke surrounding him choked his lungs and constricted his throat. Covering his red, irritable eyes and fighting back wheezing fits, the boy slowly got to his feet and surveyed the damage.

Needless to say, the aftermath of the explosion was impressive.

Large, heavy footsteps approached Sam from behind, and survival instincts automatically kicked in. Soot and grime, and an annoying amount of dust fell from his slim frame as he pounced upright and prepared to run once more. After what his guardian had sacrificed, he wasn't prepared to let Barricade catch him now.

"_Hello again_."

Witwicky took a single step before a recognizable tune blasted out from behind him. Turning with inexplicable joy, dirt still falling from his tattered clothing, Sam yelled out to the awaiting hunched Autobot: "Alright, 'Bee, you made it!"

"_Wouldn't miss this for the world._" Bumblebee responded fondly, his once intense stare softening to a sweet glow as he inwardly smiled at his beloved nickname. The pair remained silent as Sam stretched his sore muscles and gave his friend enough time to approach him at a comfortable pace. The boy took note of a faint limp in the Autobot's walk, and knew he would be giving the Camaro a week-long car wash to thank him for all that had occurred this incredible night.

After Bumblebee had finally found the inner strength to force his stature to its usual slumped stance, Sam gazed around at the wreckage and metal splinters around his feet before raising his eyes to the beautiful blue ones above him and asking, "Where's Barricade?"

An icy stare replaced Bumblebee's content look when this inquiry was presented. Turning with careful, measured steps, the Autobot came to stand to face the place where he had ended the battle. He scanned through the destruction he had accidently caused, even though he had already scanned every inch of the junkyard and its outside perimeter. But the same results returned to his vision.

Barricade's body was missing amidst the smoke and detonated machinery.

"_Got a burning feeling..._" Bumblebee began tragically, refusing to meet the fleeting glance Sam tortured him with.

The gurgle and sputter of an engine sounded in the distance, roaring further away with each second. The Autobot watched through infrared scanners as the recognizable Saleen body disappeared into the black of the hailing night.

"_...It ain't the end of us._"

**THE END**


End file.
